


How To Kill a Multi Billionaire

by sugarypiment



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Office, Attempted Murder, Dark Comedy, Emotional Manipulation, Gen, Inappropriate Humor, Mind Manipulation, Narcissism, Peter is a sweetheart, beck is a little bitch
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2020-10-10 04:41:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20522105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarypiment/pseuds/sugarypiment
Summary: "Everything would surely be splendid, if Tony Stark simply stopped existing."For eight years, Quentin Beck had been working in the shadow of the pretientious Tony Stark. But it's time to put an end to it. Once and for all.





	1. The Name on Every Lips

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so here's another fic no one asked for.  
It started with me wanting to write about Quentin then... this weirdly came out.  
This is an AU, with no Iron-Man, no Avengers, and no Spider-Man! Just guys being dudes.  
Since english isn't my first language, it's possible there's some mistakes I couldn't find along the way; sorry about that.
> 
> I need to thanks my beta @/pink16panther on tumblr, for helping me with my first chapters!

  
Quentin Beck is, in every way, absolutely Perfect.  
  
He may be the closest thing there is to the All Mighty. Some kilometers underneath, sure, but that's the only thing that can entirely separate him from being God.  
  
The impressive mirror from his bathroom that shows off his reflection is offering him the most praiseful hommage. His hair, deep ebony, is carefully lacquered back, and his beard cut precisely leaving no defects impede his appearance.

When he tightens his Valentino tie, he stares directly into his cold grey eyes. His shoulders are cut with an axe, and each seam of his costume favors his impressive physique.

There are many things that Quentin Beck appreciates in life.  
When he crosses the corridors of the office, for example, he feels the envious stares that immediately fall on him. And he loves it.  
His colleagues are jealous of him. Everyone can see it. They are jealous of his prodigious status in the field. He has to admit, it's not that bad to be the second Director in one of the largest Artificial Intelligence companies of the century.

They are jealous of his fucking studio that shows directly onto the Fifth Avenue. Jealous of his fucking watch that cost him an arm, which he proudly exposes during every meeting to announce his busy agenda.  
The craving glances exchanging around the coffee machine, like street dogs salivating in front of a piece of meat.

He loves when people greet him as if he was the fucking President of the United States.  
A king, an Emperor.  
  
"Good morning, Mr. Beck. "  
  
"Glad to see you, Mr. Beck. "  
  
All his pathetic employees are ready to kiss the bottom of his perfectly waxed shoes. 

_ He loves it. _

Nobody can happen to his ankle. At least, almost nobody.

There are also a lot of things that Quentin despises about his everyday routine, disgust and adoration being the two prevailing feelings of his daily life.  
  
He hates when people don't do their job properly.  
He hates when his secretary forgets to cancel one of his appointments or transfer him a call.  
He hates when the dry cleaner forgets to iron his shirts correctly before handing them to him.  
He hates traffic jams, people who talk too loud, people who walk too slow.

But nothing, not a single thing, was more execrable for Beck than the only person in his world who seemed to be above him.

_ Tony Stark_.

Just the detonation of his name was enough to make him grit his teeth.

A fucking pretentious bastard with horrible self-absorption and awful personality.

When Quentin is facing Stark in the meeting room, it's almost like he can't help himself from staring at him. Hypnotized by the aversion twisting his guts with each sentence escaping from his superior's lips.  
His way of speaking is repellant. His way of moving in the room, of taking every inch of space he can.  
  
_When will you learn to shut your fucking mouth for once in your life?_

Tony Stark is the only obstacle to Quentin's scheme to reach the top. A wall preventing him from scaling the last few steps toward success.  
He was dreaming of a world where it was _ his _ goddamn name engraved on one of the tallest buildings in the most famous city of the United States.  
  
Tony Stark. Tony Stark. _Tony Stark._

He was everywhere. On television, in newspapers, on billboards. It was almost impossible to live in New York without knowing the multi billionaire, creator of the very first revolutionary Artificial Intelligence.  
His name was hanging on the lips of every employee, while it should have been _ his _ .  
What could this pretentious son of a bitch possibly have more than him, anyway ?

_ He despised that _ .

"Beck, you're still with us, pal? "

Stark waves his hand in front of Beck's lost gaze, making him frown.  
He clears his throat.

"Yes. Of course."  
  
_Pal _ .  
The disgusting familiarity Stark uses with his coworkers makes Quentin want to push him through the eighteenth-floor's window.

"We have a reservation at Chart House at eight tonight. You'll still be joining us, right ? "

Oh fuck.  
Another meeting that his secretary forgot to remind him of.

_ He will have fired the stupid incompetent bitch within a week _ .

"I wouldn’t miss this for anything in the world. "

His face is twisting into one of his perfect smiles that leaves his coworkers in awe. It never worked on Stark, though. Nothing ever seems to reach the little fucker.

"Well I guess we’re all done here, then. I'll send a reminder for tonight in your mailbox. "

The employees get up to join their respective offices from the orders of their superior.  
Quentin takes a last look behind his shoulder.  
  
Stark.

His disappearance could transform him into a God on earth, change his entire universe.  
It would only take a small accident. Nothing, really!

Appetite burns his throat as he leaves the meeting room, clenching his jaw.

Everything would surely be splendid if Tony Stark simply stopped existing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading; feel free to leave a comment, it'd mean a lot!


	2. Opportunities

« Holy shit. »

Peter's eyes are wide open as he stares into the bright screen of his computer. This couldn't be real.  
His eyes keep reading over the message from his mailbox just to be sure he's not dreaming.

« Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.»

The boy stands up from his chair, almost tripping on his way to his bedroom door.

« Ned ! »

His friend is sitting on their shared couch, one hands disappearing inside a bag of potato chips.

« What's wrong ? You look like you just saw a ghost. »

« I got in ! »

Ned slightly frowns, even more lost than before.

« Got in what ? »

« The Stark Industries! They replied to the email I sent last month ! »

The bag of chips falls on the parquet as Ned slowly stands up from the couch.

« No fucking way. »

« I swear to god dude ! Check this out ! »

Peter quickly disappears into his room, immediately followed by his roommate. The boy's eyes are sparkling like Fourth of July fireworks while he points at the computer screen to his friend.

"Dear Peter,  
Thank you for your application. After a long and rigorous process, we are excited to offer you an internship this fall with Stark Industries. If you choose to accept the internship, please respond with a confirmation email as soon as possible and we will send you a welcome message the day before your internship starts."

Ned takes a sharp breath as he reads the message.

« Holy shit. »

« I just can't believe it! »

Peter is ecstatic. No, really. He literally can not believe it. It was a dream coming true, an opportunity that he would never have let himself imagined one day to receive. To work in one of the largest AI companies in New York City ? Merry fucking Christmas to him!

« So, when do you start your internship? » Ned turns towards his friend, the shared excitement glittering in his eyes.

« They said I could already get started as soon as next week. Like... this Monday. »

The simple act of saying the words out loud gives him a dizzying feeling inside his stomach. Ned can't help himself but grab Peter by the shoulders.

« That's fucking incredible, dude!»

« I know right!»

His smile is so incontrolable that his cheeks almost start to hurt.

« Do you already know what you'll have to do? Who you'll be working with?»

Peter shrugs, running one of his hands through his hair.

« I'm not sure, they didn't get into the details... But they’ll probably send more information over the weekend.»

Ned raises his hands to the heavens, like a Wise Man who has just learned the arrival of the holy child.

« Peter, we have to celebrate! We have to throw a party or something! »

Peter frowns slightly, not really convinced about the proposition.

« Not sure I'm in the mood for a party... »

A slight grin, however, stretched over his thin lips as he cast a knowing look at his roommate.

« But we can still start a new game of Dungeon Hunter though."

« Dude. You're reading my goddamn mind. You know that, right? »

« Of course I do. »

Peter's heart is so filled with joy that he almost feared it would suddenly explode.  
The kind of pure joy that you can feel from the tips of your toes to the end of your tongue.

« Can you believe I'll probably get to meet Tony Stark? Like, for real? »

Just the thought of this concept suddenly thrilled the boy.

Tony Stark had always been one of Peter's greatest inspirations since a very young age. He was an extraordinary man, a genius of his time, and a true revolutionary of the air of technology. It was because of him that Peter has been inspired to embark on scientific studies. 

He was his hero, for real.

« I mean... the chances are probably really poor. He's one of the most important men of the century. I don't really think he just hangs around the building, greeting all of his new employees, y'know? » Ned contemplates.

The two teenagers sit on their shared couch, Ned handing a can of soda fresh from the fridge to his roommate. The remark makes Peter frown a little.

« You don't know that. »

Ned shrugs, taking a sip of his own drink while turning on their small television.

It was going to be great. It was going to be perfect. It was going to be a dream coming true.

And for the first time in a while, Peter couldn't wait to be monday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter, honey, you've got a big storm comin'.  
Feel free to leave a comment!


	3. Another Martini, bitch

« So this guy, the guy I told you about earlier. He saunters up to me, and stares right into my eyes. I just can not believe he actually came back, y'know? So I stared back at him for, well, almost ten seconds. Then I say... ‘Alright. I'm ready to order, now.’ »

A huge burst of laughter blast around the table like a time bomb.

« There's no way you actually said that to him! »

Stark takes a sip of his cocktail with an unconcerned look, shrugging his shoulders.

« I swear I did. The man was so red I thought he was going to blow up. »

As the amused clamors struggle to calm down, Quentin can only roll his eyes in exasperation. He doesn't understand what his colleagues find so funny about this guy. Their euphoria is so exaggerated it's derisory.  
He takes a sip of his Martini, his grey eyes detailing every facial expression of his superior.

The restaurant is great, which was nothing surprising. Stark strives to impress his employees. Deploy his reputation, his wealth, his overflowing goodness.

It was disgusting.

Tony's gaze strikes Quentin's, and suddenly Quentin regrets starting for so long.

« So, Beck. You're ready for next week, buddy? »

Quentin is not sure what he means by that. He tries to remember all the important events that take place next week, but nothing seems to come to his mind.

The perplexity being readable on Quentin's features, Stark continues.

« Your new intern ? »

Quentin's eyes narrowed despite his will. What the fuck was he talking about?

« What do you mean, my new intern ? »

He tries to act as detached as possible, but bitterness makes him clench his fists.

« Come on, don't tell me this is the first time you’re hearing about this? »

Quentin shakes his head, a tight smile stretching his lips. « Nope. Haven’t heard of it. »

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose.

« Jesus Christ. Christina must have forgotten to tell you. Well anyway. There's this new intern coming into the office on monday. I thought you could show him around. Give the kid some stuff to do. We always need some new flesh in the company, y'know what I mean? »

Quentin has a detestable feeling wringing his guts. This must be a fucking joke. His hand tightens on his crystal glass, ready to shatters it any second.

« Yeah, sure. Absolutely. »

He attempts to give one of his most sincere smiles to Stark, who seems unimpressed. There is something indecipherable in his black eyes. Something Quentin doesn't seem to catch. And he hates it more than anything in the world.

As conversations continue, Quentin orders a third Martini, getting mad at the incompetent waiter who can't seem to do his fucking job.

« Would you excuse me for a second? I think I need to take some fresh air. I'm feeling a little dizzy. »

Quentin heads towards the panoramic terrace, his nails cutting though the palms of his hands.

Fucking Tony Stark.  
I will slice your fucking throat.

The glass door closes behind him, and Quentin hastens to plunge his hand into the inside pocket of his suit. He takes out a cigarette, wedging it between his lips before lighting it.

An intern. Seriously, who do they took him for?  
He was Quentin Fucking Beck. The second director of the Stark Industries. Not some kind of baby-sitter.

Quentin took a deep breath on his cigarette, closing his eyes. Shit.

Before him, New York shone brightly, reflecting its flashing lights in the Hudson River. A panoramic view that could take anyone's breath away.

Quentin savored his cigarette silently, glancing over his shoulder.

At their table, Stark tells another one of his anecdotes, making big gestures and animated expressions.  
The public drinks his words up as if he were the damned Messiah. They laugh at each of his sentences, acclaim each of his remarks.  
Quentin snaps his tongue .

A cloud of smoke escapes from his lips, scattering in the polluted air of the city. A few steps further, a woman in an indigo evening dress makes a phone call, leaning on the padding.

Quentin details her from the corner of his eye. The young woman glances at him and smile discreetly. Not bad.  
He bets he'll have her in his bed by the end of the night.

Feeling the cigarette dies out on his lips, he crushes it in the outdoor ashtray before returning to the restaurant. He can feel the young woman following him with her eyes.

His fake smile reappears on his face as soon as he returns among his employees. He is acclaimed, and quickly catches the train of conversation.

Fucking hypocrites.  
  
He feels Tony's eyes following him as he speaks.  
Beck wanted to throw his olive pike right in his dark eyes.  
  
Another Martini.  
The night was going to be long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quentin needs to take some Chill Pills™  
feel free to leave a comment!


	4. The Golden Ticket

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the long break!  
I've recently 'lost' my beta so I've tried to correct my writing by myself, I'm sorry for the likely grammar mistakes I couldn't find!

Peter's weekend went by at an incredible speed.

Aside from their endless sleepless nights in front of video games, Peter and Ned decided to celebrate Peter's new job as they should, opting for a small expedition at the Funfair in town.

They both agreed to propose to Michelle and Betty to join them, the two girls having, to their greatest surprise, immediately accepted the offer.

Peter was amazed. The day went perfectly, the quartet challenging each other to achieve as many attractions as they could. They even managed to win the jackpot at the shooting stand !

Ned, Betty and Michelle all agreed that Peter was the one who deserved to keep the plush won, and the boy felt swelling with adoration for them.

Everything was perfect.  
  
In the evening, the four friends decided to buy hot dogs, which they ate sitting in the park to get a better view of the fireworks.  
They spoke of the past, of their days spent together back at school, laughing at old memories that Peter had been afraid of forgetting.  
  


The day ended with an improvised karaoke party at Peter and Ned's apartment, until Michelle and Betty were called back home.

After that, Peter and Ned spent the rest of the night in front of video games, laughing until they both fell asleep on the couch.

It was a nice day. The kind of day we would choose to relive until the end of time. The kind of day comes immediately to mind when someone asks you to think of a happy memory.

And Peter felt happy.  
  


When Peter's alarm rings for the first time on Monday morning, the boy is already standing in his room, the anticipation boiling his veins.

He spends more than half an hour in front of the mirror from his bedroom, having carefully laced his hair back, trying to pick which smile was the most appropriate to wear when he would finally meets the famous _Tony Stark_.

He silently thanked Aunt May's tie-knotting classes when he had to complete his outfit.

It should do the trick.

His pale blue shirt is slipped into his pants. His tie is knotted at his neck, and his backpack is loaded on his back. Head high, shoulders open. Everything is in the posture, he had learned that with the years.

Facing his reflection, Peter makes some last breath exercises before leaving his room, grabbing something eat on his way to _work_.

Headphones screwed to his ears, he leaves the apartment on tiptoe so as not to wake Ned, his heart beating wildly.

_This is it !_

_Katrina and the Waves _are singing in his head as he hastly goes down the stairs, restraining himself from running. The demarche, Parker. Everything is in the demarche.

His smile is hard to hide when he rush on the main street, tightening his hands on his backpack.

_This is it, this is it ! _

The building of the Stark Industry where he was affiliated to is only four subway stops away from his neighborhood, which gives him plenty of time to take a last look at his documents. Everything seemed to be in order.

The anxiety holding his guts is nothing compared to the joy that shakes every inch of his members, when he's finally facing the huge glass door of the main building. The name of his hero is written in silver on the imposing face, and Peter almost got goosbumps.

He feels like Charlie Bucket, ready to take the first step inside Willy Wonka's chocolate factory, closed to the public for so many years. He is one of those who become actors, and no longer just a spectator. He got his goddamn golden ticket !

"_You can do it, Parker."_

In a conclusive nod, Peter takes a last breath before pushing the glass door.

The corridor facing it is huge and immaculate, similar to a luxury hospital for rich people only. A smell of detergent floats in the air, and immediately, Peter feels like home. This is where he belongs. He can feel it in his bones.

"Excuse me, young man ? "

Peter jumps at the call, turning around abruptly. A red-haired woman greets him with an enchanted smile as she walks toward him. She must be the secretary, Peter thought to himself as he quickly read the badge attached to her blouse.

"Can I help you ?"

The tall lady has an impressive charisma. Peter opens his mouth, fearing nothing will come out, but manages to stammer a few word.

"Yes, hi ! I'm... Peter Parker. I'm supposed to start my internship today. I have all the papers with me, if you need to see them !"

He illustrates his words by offering his documents to the woman who raises her eyebrows with perplexity. A handful of seconds passes, and Peter feels his throat drying. His hands are already shaking, and he hates himself for that.

"Oh, right! I'm sorry, I forgot you were coming today. Of course ! Peter Parker. "

Peter is struggling to breathe. From the corner of his eye, he is able to see a few men in costumes crossing the corridor. These are employees. The employees of _Tony Stark _! He bites his lip not to smile too hard.  
  
It was like seeing the Oopa-Lumpas for the first time.

"You can go to the eight floor. Then, you'll have to go to the end of the corridor, to your right. That's where they'll give you all the informations you'll need, your badge and everything."

Peter nods, his eyes bright with enchantment.

"Thank you ! Thank you very much ! "

The woman gives him a charmed smile, waving her hand.

" You're welcome. The elevator is on your left, at the end of the hallway. "

"Thank you ! "  
  
Peter hastens to cross the corridor, his heart seizing for the umpteenth time. Everything is sumptuous, glass doors opening onto an impressive courtyard all along the impressive hallway. Even the elevator door seems to have been made of crystal.

He was finally there. The Stark Industries. Even as he walked in the building, Peter still couldn't believe it was real.  
Today, he was going to discover a world he could only dreamed of so far.

Today, his life was going to change.  
  
He could feel it.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to leave a review! Also, if anyone is interested into helping me out with my grammar for this fanfic it'd be really grateful!


End file.
